Check Point by Xela

Chapter #1 - Part I

Takes place after Checkpoint, Season 5 A/N: I’m running with Buffy was called when she was 15, not when she TURNED 15…so this is before she got called. She’s still 15, though. And the language Anya’s speaking in Norwegian; I just ran it through a language translator, so it’s probably not grammatically correct (in case any of you speak that language…). The Scoobies were having their first official slumber party in what seemed like forever. After the Council had shown up and put everyone through their paces, it was unanimously decided that they deserved a night off. And with Riley up and disappearing on her, Buffy deserved a night devoid of anything that had to do with slaying. Which was why they’d all assembled at her house for a relaxing night of junk food, television, and silliness. Well, television up until the point where the movie became far too scary for one of their number to bear. “Xander!” Anya screeched, pointing fearfully at the television. Bowls of chips went flying in every direction. “You said this movie was funny! You said it would make me laugh! KILLER BUNNIES ARE NOT FUNNY! Make it go away!” “Ahn! It’s OK, we’ll turn it off…” Dawn was the first to react, quickly grabbing the remote and snapping the TV off. Anya was breathing heard, her eye wide and fearful. “How can they think that’s funny? Killer bunnies? They’re scary enough! Why would anyone add those teeth?” Buffy was trying very hard not to laugh at the ex-vengeance demon. For a woman who had been the scourge of men for over a thousand years, she sure was scared of some weird things. “How about we watch—“ “NO!” Anya protested vehemently. “No, I am not watching any more television! There might be more of those…things.” “Anya, I swear there are no bunnies in this movie.” The blonde woman just shook her head in vehement denial. “You put that in and I’m going home! And Xander had better come with me if he wants any orgasms for the next…day and a half.” Xander shrugged apologetically at the group. “Ooooooooook,” Buffy drawled out, looking around the house. Her mom was upstairs, probably asleep. She was still a little weak from the surgery. And none of them wanted to break up their party; days of peaceful relaxation were few and fare between these days. “So, what are we going to do?” “W-w-we could play cards,” Tara suggested hesitantly. She was still a little unsure of her place in the Scooby Gang, but it was getting easier; she felt more like a part of the group these days. “Or,” Dawn said, walking over to the shelf, “we could play spin the bottle.” She held up one of their mother’s random artifacts, a sturdy-looking bottle made out of some very pretty glass with random, archaic markings—a sure sign that if their mother found out, they’d all be in heaps of trouble. “You have got to be kidding,” Buffy said, completely unimpressed. “That’s one of mom’s arty things. And I’m *not* playing spin the bottle with my little sister.” “Eeeeeewwwww,” Dawn said with disgust, her nose wrinkling with distaste. “We could always make up our own rules.” “Oh! That’s a great idea!” Willow exclaimed excitedly, bouncing excitedly up and down. “It can be like Turth or Dare with a bottle! Only…less dare and more truth! Or-or-or something like that!” “Truth or dare spin the bottle?” Buffy asked the group. Giggling like the school children they no longer were, they arranged themselves in a circle. “Who’s gonna go first?” Xander asked. Before any of them could answer, the doorbell rang. “Someone order pizza?” Xander asked excitedly. “Nnnnoooo,” Buffy said slowly, wondering who could be at the door at this hour. None of her options boded well. She cautiously opened the door, her annoyance rising when she saw who was standing on her porch. “Giles.” “Ah, Buffy, good!” the watcher said, inviting himself in, oblivious to the annoyed look his slayer was throwing him. “I found these books—“ “Giles!” He gave her a startled look. “This is officially a no-Slay night! You’re not allowed to talk a-a-about keys and hellgods and vampires and anything!” “Buffy!” a sharp voice admonished from the stairs. The slayer heaved a sigh and faced her mother, guilt warring with frustrated anger. “Mr. Giles was just trying to help. He didn’t know about tonight. Hello, Rupert,” Joyce greeted with a warm smile. Giles took of his glasses and began cleaning them vigorously. “H-h-hello, Joyce. Quite nice to see you.” “And you as well. Since you’re here, why don’t you join me for a cup of tea? You can leave the books for Buffy to look over tomorrow,” Joyce suggested with another small smile. Giles fumblingly accepted the offer and followed Joyce into the kitchen. Buffy glared at their retreating backs. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her mother was flirting with her watcher. With a huff, she flounced back to the group. “Alright, let’s play—“ her words were cut off when the door was flung open, heavy boots stomping on the floor. “Slayer!” an annoyingly familiar British voice called out. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. She ssssoooo did not need this right now. “Slayer, I—well. Didn’t know we were having a party.” If Buffy didn’t know Spike, she’d have thought there was a hint of hurt in his voice. “Spike,” she growled, her voice hard. “We’re about to play spin the bottle truth-or-dare, wanna join?” Dawn said with andeceptively innocent smile. Her sister may be a super-bitch to Spike, but that didn’t mean she had to be. “I’d love to.” He fluidly settled himself next to the slayer, and sent the bottle in the middle spinning. A blinding flash swept through the house, and from the outside it looked like 1630 Revello had been lit from the inside by the sun. *** Joyce slowly came to, her head pounding something awful. Must have been one hell of a wild night, because she didn’t remember any of it! She hadn’t even made it to bed; in fact, looking around, she hadn’t even made it home. A groan across from her caught her attention. A devilishly handsome man with eyes of steel looked back at her. She checked him out, taking points off for the outfit, but not even tweed could take much away from his hotness. Memories of another time, fuzzy and blurred, came slowly back to her. A slow, sultry smile made its way onto her face. “Well well well. If it isn’t…what did you call yourself? Ripper?” Joyce said with a saucy grin. “Why is that, again?” The delicious man in front of her fixed her with most devilish look she’d ever seen, and her breath caught in her throat. “Do I need to remind you?” he asked, his voice pitch low and husky. He was bad and dangerous and oh-so-hot. “Yeah. I *really* think you do,” she said. She was more than ready for him when he launched himself over the table. *** Buffy groaned and rolled over on her…floor? Her eyes popped open at the same moment her massive headache hit. Why was she one the floor? She sat up, and realized she wasn’t in her room. She wasn’t even in her house! Where was she? She needed to get home, the big game was tonight! “Pardon me, Miss? Do you happen to know where we are?” a confused voice asked from beside her. Buffy turned and found herself face-to-face with the most gorgeous boy she’d ever laid eyes on. He had startling blue eyes, bleach-blonde hair, and was encased in leather from head to toe. He screamed bad boy, and the naughty part of Buffy was telling her that no one on her squad would ever believe her if she made out with this hunk of manly goodness. “Miss?” She frowned a little. That accent so did not go with the image. But he was hot enough for it not to matter…much. She could definitely work with this. “I have no idea where we are,” she said with a flirtatious smile; she started running her hands down her cheerleading outfit, amoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles, absolutely sure that it would draw Hottie McHotterson’s attention. “But I—what the hell?” Buffy looked down in confusion when she didn’t feel the soft material of her uniform; in fact, it was almost as if… “WHAT THE HELL AM I WEARING?!” *** Xander woke up with a start; someone was screeching, which was never a good sign in his house. He frowned when he realized he wasn’t in his house. He sat up, wincing at the pounding in his brain. He wrenched his eyes open and took in his surroundings. Willow was here, so nothing too bad could have happened. But the room was filled with people he didn’t know. And right now, a beautiful blonde girl was frantically babbling about her clothes. “I have to get to the game! This isn’t funny! I refuse to wear these unfashionable solid-color tragedies of a fashion disaster! I want my uniform back!” The girl started crying in earnest. Some punk-looking guy was crouched over her, trying to comfort the girl; they seemed like they knew each other, and Xander scowled. Why did good guys ALWAYS finish last? It was totally unfair. “I look hideous!” the girl wailed. Xander thought she looked pretty good; that top was cut just low enough that… “Unnskylder meg, mann med den muskuløs armer. Hva er denne sted ?” a feminine voice asked from beside him. A woman with light brown hair and an open face looked expectantly at him. “Ummm…what?” he asked with confusion. The language that was coming out of her mouth was nothing he was remotely familiar with. “Er jeg i landet av Gudene ? Jeg er, med slik finery omkring meg. Og disse magi tenner. ..very imponerende. De er en mann av stor rikdom og kraft. Vil De liker ha kjønn ?” Xander had no idea what the woman was saying…but she was running her had VERY suggestively up his arm. He blushed bright red, his teenaged-brain trying to operate as his blood rushed south. The look the woman gave him made his eyes glaze over; was she really offering what every freshman guy dreamed of? “I-I-I-I…” he trailed off, unable to form any sort of remotely coherent sentence. This so didn’t happen to people like him! He looked helplessly at the woman, who smiled widely and put his hand on her boob. Xander gaped. His hand was on a woman’s boobie. His HAND was actually TOUCHING a REAL boob. This was…Willow wasn’t going to believe this! No one at school was going to believe him either. “Alexander Lavelle Harris! What are you doing?!” a voice screeched. OK, so maybe Willow would believe him. He looked up, a goofy grin on his face before Willow dragged him off of the woman, glaring daggers at her. “Boobie!” he crowed delightedly. “Er De ikke intereted ?” the woman asked with a pout. “Xander! What did you do? Y-y-you can’t take advantage of someone who doesn’t speak our language like that! It’s wrong and immoral and…and wrong!” Willow ignored the jealousy that coursed through her. She and Xander were just best friends, nothing more. “E-e-e-excuse m-me?” a timid voice asked. They both turned to look at a nervous girl with straight blonde hair, looking at them with trepidation. “W-w-where are we? And w-w-what’s going on?” Willow glanced around at the group of people. Only Xander was familiar…and she was pretty sure she didn’t usually hang out with people who had bleached hair and dressed all in black. Logically, none of it made sense. Though if she were honest with herself, they were in Sunnydale, and things did tend to go very weird here. So she put on her best smile and stuck her hand out. “I don’t know, but I’m Willow,” she said with a huge smile. The shy girl shook her hand, and Willow jumped when something that felt almost electric raced up her arm. “Tara,” the other girl said. She was looking at Willow with wide eyes. “I’m Xander,” the boy said with a little wave, looking a bit bashful. Their eyes turned to the foreign girl, who simply stared back at them. Xander decided since he was the one who had touched her boob, he should try to communicate with her. “Xander,” he said, thumping his chest. “You…?” He pointed back and forth, doing the classic me-you thing. In the movies, they had to do this at least ten times before anyone got it. “I’m—“ “Xander.” The girl touched her chest and fixed him with a blinding smile. “Anyanka,” she said. “Anyanka,” Xander tested. She smiled broadly, and nodded enthusiastically. “Hi, Anyanka.” “But the game is tonight!” a wailing voice suddenly cut through their huddle. The hot blonde chick Xander had noticed first was in tears, and the punk rocker looked like he was in way over his head. “I do not know what game you speak of, Miss, but I assure you that I will do everything in my power so that you do not miss it.” Buffy looked up into the hottest blue eyes she had ever seen and melted. “You mean that?” she asked with a sniffle. A smile spread over the guy’s face, and he gave her an odd little bow. “Upon my honor, Miss…?” he trailed off, realizing that he had no recollection of this golden goddess’ name. “Buffy,” she said with a smile that made all other smiles pale in comparison. “Buffy,” he murmured reverently. He raised her hand to his mouth and laid a gentlemanly kiss upon it. He wasn’t usually so forward, but there was something enchanting about this girl. She was…vibrant, effervescent, vivacious…effulgent. Yes, that was the very word for her. Effulgent. “Oh, you have got to be kidding,” a voice scoffed, breaking their stare-fest. Buffy turned an annoyed look at the mousy brown-haired guy who had forced her to stop looking at the hunk of salty man meat. “I beg your pardon?” William asked. “Does that really ever work? Please. That act is so lame. I mean…look at how you’re dressed!” “I fail to see what is wrong with my attire…” William trailed off, staring at what he was wearing. This was wrong; these clothes were indecent! He was wearing some unbearably coarse material on his legs that squeezed him in unnatural ways; his body was covered by a great deal of leather. This was entirely unbecoming of a gentleman! Where were his trousers? His coat? This was most embarrassing. “I’m indecent!” he cried, turning wildly apologetic eyes to the blonde woman who had so captured his attentions. “Madame, I beg your pardon, for I have undoubtedly offended you with my ghastly dress.” Buffy giggled at how upset he seemed to be, giving him an appraising once…twice…thrice over. “I think you’re kind of hot,” she said with a grin. She batted her eyelashes at him, thrilled that this sexy man was actually flirting with her. William was smitten. Thoughts of Cecily had instantly been driven out of his mind when this woman had opened her brilliant green eyes. Her odd style of dress didn’t tarnish the fact that she was perfection in human form. Words bubbled in him, eager to find their way onto paper. “You are as a flower, ensnaring me with it’s beauty Like a been drawn to honey, who knows only duty Until fate should show him the power Of his chosen, striking, effulgent flower.” OK, so it was a little slap-dash, but he hadn’t had time to work on it. Inspiration struck, and he had to comply. Willow gaped at the punk-rock looking man who was spouting bad poetry at a girl who was so not his type. He needed some pale skanky hobag with dark hair and crazy clothes, not some golden-haired suburban chick. What world had she and Xander been sucked into? “Who ARE you?” Xander asked incredulously. Guys dressed like this character did not walk around spouting poetry! It was so against the rules! He couldn’t look like a sexy bad ass AND be a nice guy! Xander shrugged off the ‘sexy’ part; best not to think of these things. “I am William James Pratt the third. And you are?” Xander crossed his arms and fixed the guy with a glare. Something about him was just down right annoying. “Alexander Lavelle Harris…the first.” As the boys engaged in a staring match, Willow tentatively raised her hand. “Um…does anyone know what’s going on?"

Chapter #2 - Part II

Dawn woke up to a throbbing head, a mouth full of bile, and people screeching in panic. She blithely wondered what demon had attacked them this time. She pried her eyes open, wishing instantly that she had kept them closed. She moaned, pushed herself up, and stared uncomprehendingly at the plaster in front of her. There was a Dawn-sized dent in the wall. She turned around, wondering why no one had rushed over to make sure she was OK. She was surprised to see everyone freaking out. Anya was sitting on the couch, her eyes huge, head bouncing back and forth as she tried to keep up with the different people yelling at each other. Tara was trying to be as invisible as possible. Buffy was glaring at Xander, her green eyes flashing. Willow was trying to run interference. And Spike looked…taken aback? Dawn blinked. When did Spike EVER look taken aback? Geesh, a girl got knocked against a wall for five minutes and everything went to hell. With a groan, she forced her protesting muscles to work. She staggered towards the group. God, her back must be a huge mass of bruises. “Buffy?” she called, trying to get her sister’s attention. “Buffy? Buffy! SHUT UP!” Surprisingly, every mouth snapped shut and Dawn was suddenly pinned by every eye in the room. “Um. Hi. Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Silence greeted her words. Her gaze skipped around to each of the supposed-adults in the room. “Anyone? Buffy? Xander? Willow? Tara. Please, you’re the voice of reason.” Why were they all looking at her like she’d grown another head? “You…know us?” Willow asked tentatively. “Ah, only for like, the past five years,” Dawn said incredulously. What the hell was going on? “All of us?” Buffy asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically. She looked like Cordelia, Dawn thought with a shudder. “Well, no. I’ve known you my entire life, Buffy. I’m your SISTER.” Buffy looked confused for a second, before memories slowly started invading her consciousness. “Oh. Right…yeah, you…are.” Dawn didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all. “And do you know how we came to be here, young Miss?” Spike asked her. Dawn gaped at her pseudo-big brother. Did he just call her young miss? And what was with that accent? Oh no. A very bad feeling crawled down her spine. “Buffy? How…how old are you?” Her sister gave her the most brainless ‘duh’ look. Dawn knew that look. Dawn was very well acquainted with that look, actually; she just hadn’t seen it since… “15. Duh.” Buffy rolled her eyes at her annoying kid sister. God, she had to be drain bramaged. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Did YOU steal my uniform?” Dawn gawped at Buffy. Was she serious? “NO. Why in the world would I do that?” “Because you’re my bratty little sister you…brat!” Buffy finished lamely. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Why couldn’t Dawn leave her alone so she could finish chatting up Mr. Hottie? “How old do I look to you, Buffy?” Dawn asked warily. There was no way Buffy could mistake her for the ten-year-old version of herself. “You’re 10, Dawnie. Now why don’t you stop bugging me? You’re not old enough to be playing with us. Don’t make me call mom.” Dawn sighed resolutely. This was not going to be easy. But calling mom was a brilliant idea; who knew Buffy had those when she was 15? “Look, all of you just stay put. Do NOT leave the house! I’m going to go find Mom and Giles.” Without waiting for a response, a majorly wigged Dawn rushed out of the room. She needed to find her Mom; she would make everything better! She burst into the kitchen. “Mom, I need you to…OH. MY. GOD. My eyes! Oh! Oh, no! This…GILES!” There, on the floor, was her MOTHER and what amounted for a father figure going at it like bunnies. She tried to look away, but she was frozen in horror at the sight. This was so not happening to her! Finally freeing herself from her stupefaction, Dawn ran out of the kitchen and slammed the door shut. OK, so apparently, she was completely on her own. It was up to her to save everyone. Great. And her mother so owed her therapy. Lots of it. *** Anya was bored. These people were not gods. None of them were remotely attractive enough. The one with unnaturally pale hair could be a demi-god; that was a distinct possibility, especially in light of his hair color and physical make up. And the brunette was quite attractive. But they weren’t full-god material. Maybe they were slaves or servants? It was quite possible. Anya sighed. Still bored. She perked up when the pretty blonde woman with the crooked nose left the attractive pale-haired man’s side. This was her perfect opportunity. She walked over to the dazed looking man with a smile. “Hei. Vil De liker ha ru og tilfreds kjønn med meg ?” She smiled at the man attractively. “P-pardon me?” William said in confusion. Whatever language she was speaking was not one he’d studied in school. The woman looked a bit put off, and he felt contrite for not being able to understand her. “Vil De liker ha KJØNN med meg ? De vet, anbringer Deres penis i min skjede ?” When he still looked helplessly at her, Anyanka rolled her eyes. Ok, simple. Men liked simple, as they were simple creatures. She made a circle with her thumb and pointer finger of her right hand. She presented him with it, and smirked when his gaze became more confused. She stuck the pointer finger of her right hand in his face, assessed his package, and then opted for her middle finger. She stuck it through the circle made by her connected fingers several times before he finally god the message. Spike realized with dawning horror what the strange woman was asking him. He started backing away from her, his eyes wide and horrified. “You…I…MADAM! That is hardly appropriate behavior f-f-for a lady! I-i-i-I OMPH!” Will went sprawling as he tripped over something on the floor. He stood up quickly, sure his face was flaming bright red. But the woman had propositioned him! He was a decent person, a gentleman in all respects. This was completely improper! “What happened?” Buffy cried, running around the corner. “Billy Idol here fell on his ass,” Xander said with a smirk. He sidled up to the blonde bombshell. “So, you wanna go get some coffee or something sometime?” Xander asked with what he thought was a charming smile. That’s what all the cool guys did, right? Took the girl out for coffee? William felt his heart sink. He’d never had much luck with women, and he was certain that he couldn’t stand up to any sort of competition. This other man was obviously far more confident and composed than he. He sighed, prepared for the rejection that was surely immanent. Buffy gave Xander a disgusted look, eying him up and down. He was a fashion train wreck. What was he doing wearing that color-vomit of a Hawaiian shirt? And those disgustingly shapeless pants? Really, he thought he had a chance when hunk of delicious man meat was staring at her with soulful blue eyes? “As if,” she sniffed and flounced over to the stud. Xander felt the sting of rejection harshly. His shoulders slumped, and he stared at the floor. So much for that. He felt a tap on his arm, and turned to see—What was her name? Right. Anyanka—Anyanka looking at him expectantly. “Kjønn?” she asked hopefully. Xander stared at what she was doing with her hands. He looked up to her face, completely disbelieving. There was no way…but she did. She really did. Glancing at Willow, who was absorbed in conversation with the shy girl, he nodded enthusiastically, and grabbed the girl’s hand. Where could they go? He glanced at the stairs and figured what the hell. He ran the entire way, settling on one of the rooms. Tonight, Xander Harris was getting laid! No one would ever believe this! *** Dawn ignored Xander and Anya’s leaving. Wasn’t like it was an abnormal occurrence; and she really needed to figure out how to get everyone back to the proper ages. She glanced at Buffy and Spike, who were happily chatting each other up. It was nice to see Buffy flirting with Spike…even if she was doing it in a very immature 9th-grade kind of way. With a sigh, Dawn walked over to the two witches—who may not know they WERE witches—and prayed for some sort of divine inspiration. “Ah…hey.” She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as familiar eyes regarded her without recognition. “Hi. Dawn, right?” Willow asked with a smile. “Um, yeah. So…you’re getting along?” she asked tentatively. She saw the small smiles the two girls threw each other’s way. “Yeah. Tara here is really cool…she knows all sorts of stuff about magick. She’s a practicing wicca!” Willow said excitedly. She was practically bouncing in her seat. “She said I could learn, and I totally think I can, because I can feel her magick! There’s neat little jolt of weird electricy-vibey tingly stuff that shoots through me whenever we touch. Wouldn’t it be neat if I could like…float a pencil or-or-or tie someone’s shoelaces!” Dawn hadn’t missed how Tara’s eyes widened when Willow said something about ‘electric tingles.’ Dawn shook her head. Magick her foot! “So, are the tinglies a witchy thing? Does it happen with everyone who’s interested, or gifted or something?” Willow asked excitedly. Tara slowly shook her head, her gaze assessing. “I think that’s a ‘you’re my lover take me now’ kinda thing, Wills,” Dawn said dryly. This whole saving everyone thing was not all it was cut out to be. But no one said she couldn't have a little fun while she worked on the problem. “I…what?” “You, Tara. You’re lovers. And not the annoyingly schmoopy kind either. Well, at least not since that first month or so after you came out.” She snagged some forgotten pop corn off the table, hiding her smirk. And they thought Buffy had a problem with De Nile. Dawn happily ignored the part of her that knew Willow was still stuck in her 15-year-old mindset. She glanced at Tara, who seemed to be taking the news in stride. She looked contemplative. “No! I mean, n-n-not that you’re not a nice person, Tara! I just have Xander crushage. Major Xander crushage! We’re talking about unrequited love crushage!” Willow looked a little too desperate to be trying to convince JUST them. Dawn just snorted and turned her thoughts towards fixing this mess. It would help if she knew HOW this mess had happened in the first place. *** Joyce sighed in contentment, basking in the afterglow of her…third? Fourth? Orgasm. The man was an animal. And she loved it. She rolled over and planted a kiss on his chest. Her back pulled in irritation, and Joyce realized the floor really was unnecessarily hard. “How about we find ourselves a bed? Or at least some carpet?” she asked with a devilish grin that promised the night wasn’t over by a long shot. Hand in hand, they made their way upstairs, ignoring the party that seemed to be going on in another room; they had their own, private party to get back to. Ripper dragged her through the first door he came across. He slammed the door and had her pressed against it in seconds, his mouth claiming hers. With a sigh, Joyce gave him what they both wanted. *** Buffy found the surprising contrast between William’s bad boy image and his soft-spoken, almost naive nature totally cute. He would sometimes stop and look at her adoringly, spouting off some poetry that made her feel like the queen of the world. It helped that he had a rockin’ bod too. The squad would be soooo jealous…if this weren’t another one of her increasingly weird dreams. She sighed loudly. “What pains you sweet Buffy? Whatever it is that has brought a frown to your flawless visage, I shall drive it away, even if it costs me my life!” William had never felt this depth of feeling, this strongly about anyone…not even Cecily, who he’d admired from a far for years. She paled in comparison to the woman before him. “I just wish you were for real,” she said moodily. William smiled and caressed her check, tucking a strand of gold behind her ear. Normally, he wouldn’t dare be so forward, but he’d recently decided that such a fantastical world as this could only be the product of his dreams. “Ah, but sadly it is YOU who are not real,” he said, true sadness lacing his tone. What he would give for this moment to exist. But he was rewarded with a giggle that made his heart soar and his heart clench. “This is one of those does a crazy person know they’re crazy type things, isn’t it?” He gave her a confused look, but she just waved him off, her laughter tinkling merrily in his ear. “Well, since this is a dream, try some rollos.” Buffy picked up the roll of chocolate-covered caramel goodness and popped it into a surprised William’s mouth. He slowly closed his mouth, Buffy giggling at the expression of shock that slid over his face. “This…this is absolutely sinful!” he exclaimed. “More?” Buffy asked with a pleased grin. He nodded enthusiastically like a little boy. “Open up.” He dutifully opened his mouth, ready for another treat, but he misjudged the timing. His mouth caught Buffy’s fingers before she had a chance to pull away. Eyes wide, and unsure what was driving him on, William slowly sucked on the delicate digits, running his tongue along the pads of her sensitive fingers. Buffy gasped, and her eyes seemed to glaze over. William felt something strange and foreign rumble deeply within him. A smell suddenly flooded his nostrils; the most basic part of him told him it was a woman’s arousal, though he had no basis for knowing that. And something snapped. Buffy felt herself hauled roughly against William, and brought her legs up to wrap around his waist. The feelings he created in her were strong and extremely powerful; she couldn’t deny them, didn’t want to. She was drawn in a heated, demanding kiss. He kissed with sinful elegance, his tongue demanding but not suffocating. He was perfect. She moaned; this side of William was way more in line with the clothes. Buffy felt a painful prick on her lips, and pulled away in surprise. William growled when he tasted something more powerful, more delicious than even the chocolate moments before. It splashed on his tongue and infused the kiss with something intense. The soft lips he’d been kissing were suddenly gone, and he growled his disapproval. “Did…did you just growl? And what…what happened to your face?” Trying to form coherent thoughts through a haze of lust was not easy. Buffy had always thought that had been the stuff of romance novels and fan fiction, but no, it really was quite hard. William reached up and touched his face. He gasped, startled, when he encountered unfamiliar features. His brow was more distended, and his teeth were quite sharp. What was going on? “Oh Goddess! What are you?!” a voice shrieked. William felt something primal rise at the shriek of fear, and he turned towards the source with a growl. “Oh, relax. Spike…ah, William’s a vampire. Nothing to worry about,” Dawn said dismissively. “He is?” “I am?” Buffy and Spike spoke at the same time. The looked at each other. Buffy reached out and rang a hand over his ridges, and touched a fang. William felt a shudder run through him, and a powerful lust over take him. “Cool,” Buffy said with a grin. She suddenly found herself firmly nestled in strong arms. Oooooohhhh, muscles! He took the stairs two at a time, eager to reach a destination he was searching for by instinct. He approached one door, but heard the sounds of sex coming from it. So he walked to the end of the hall and burst through the door. There. That’s what he was looking for. A plush bed stood invitingly. He tossed his prize through the air. She yelped when she bounced on the bed. In a fluid motion, he ripped the shirt off of his body. Buffy couldn't help but stare at the beauty in front of her. He was ripped. His pale skin flowed smoothly over well-developed muscles. Her mouth watered, wondering if he tasted as good as he looked. As Buffy perused him, the demon retreated under the overwhelming doubts and insecurities of the man. William wondered if he was somehow malformed, if he was unattractive in some way. “Pretty,” she breathed. Something warm and delicious spread through him at her words, and he felt that strange part of him that had to be the vampire purr in contentment. He had to admit that he understood exactly how the vampire felt. For a second, William felt his Victorian sentiments rush back to him. “Miss Buffy, I…” “Buffy,” she said firmly. William’s eyes glazed over when she pushed herself up and pulled his head to her, her lips just inches away form his own. “I think you can call me Buffy.” And she kissed him, sweetly, tenderly. His demon took over, and before he knew it, they were both naked. He looked down at her body, awe in his eyes. He’d heard stories from the more crass boys, stories about a woman’s body…but he’d never believed them. Buffy surpassed anything that could be put into words. God, what was he looking at? What was he thinking? Was he repulsed? Shouldn’t he be just…you know…getting it over with? She started squirming uncomfortably. There was something wrong with her, there had to be. She was deformed, ugly, he didn’t want her, he thought she was… “Bloody magnificent. You put Venus to shame.” The conviction in his voice made her melt. Aaaaaaaawe! She grinned shyly at him. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” William said with a smile. She was adorable and perfect. He stiffened when her legs wrapped around his, and he could feel her heat pressing against his erection. He didn’t really want to admit it, but he didn’t *exactly* know what to do. “Ah, Mi—Buffy. I don’t…that is to say, this is…not…” “It’s my first time too,” she admitted almost shyly. “Then it shall be quite memorable for us both.”

Chapter #3 - Part III

“So you see, it’s not possible because—and not that I have anything against b-being that way, you know, it’s just that I’m not, so it’s cool if you are, but you’re wrong. You don’t even know me! I like Xander. I mean, I don’t like Xander…well, I do, I just like-like him, like love-like him, not just like him because he’s my best friend, and we’ve been together forever, and it’s totally natural that I like him like that—“ “You know he’s currently boinking Anya, right?” Dawn grumbled. OK, she knew she was being mean, but Willow had been nattering on about her non-lesbionic status for ten minutes now, and it was grating on Dawn’s nerves. Actually, now that she thought about it, everyone was boinking. Any and Xander, Buffy and Spike had disappeared upstairs too, which could only mean one thing…and *shudder* Mom and Giles. That couldn’t be coincidental. OK, she could so see Xander having sex at the first opportunity, but the others? Spike had told her a couple of stories about his living past, and in none of them had he been other than a ‘poncy Victorian prat.’ Something was up. She just didn’t know what, or how to get everyone back to their correct ages. The whole saving the world gig sucked hardcore. “So, are you crushing on any boys?” Willow asked Tara with a huge, desperate grin. Dawn rolled her eyes and ate some more pop-corn. Tara shook her head, her eyes silently laughing. Dawn watched with mute fascination as they both got closer to each other, until they were practically kissing. Willow seemed blithely unaware until Tara’s lips gently brushed hers. Dawn got to four before the red-head jumped back in shock. “No! No, I like XANDER. He’s a he!” With a huge sigh and an eye roll, Dawn went to go lie on the couch and do some serious thinking. With Willow so firmly in denial, she should not be anywhere near Tara…but she seemed unable to actually leave. And Tara was giving her huge come-hither eyes that were decidedly un-Tara like. Which just made her more certain that there was something more to this spell than just reverting everyone to their teenage years. Dawn sank on the couch, her legs sprawling out as she slouched down. She accidentally kicked something, and looked down. There, lying forgotten, was their substitute for the bottle part of spin-the-bottle. With a flash of intuition, Dawn picked up the bottle and looked at it. It was old and decorated with random magick-looking markings. Well, at least one mystery was solved…she hoped. *** “So that was…I mean, you were…wow.” Xander now understood what ‘mind-blowing sex’ meant. Ok, so while he’d had sex officially once now, he was pretty sure it had been of the mind-blowing type. At least, that’s what he assumed it meant as his entire body was doing the happy dance. “De mangler teknikk, men Deres eagnerss lager opp for det. Vil De liker prøve igjen ? Jeg lærer De.” Xander had no idea what the woman was asking him, but he really hoped it was for more sex. Sex good. But…what if she was complaining? What if she’d found him totally inaccurate, and he was going to go to school on Monday and be the laughing stock—alright, MORE the laughing stock—of the entire school? “I don’t know what you want,” he said a bit helplessly. Was he doing something wrong? Was there some specific moment-after thing that he wasn’t doing? He started panicking, wondering if she was going to leave off because he wasn’t any good. That would mean no more sex. Anya saw the man start panicking and rolled her eyes. Men were so fragile; they need constant ego stroking, to be told they had done well, that their penisi were sufficient for pleasing a woman. Really, it was quite silly; if they’d just learn to tell when a woman came, they’d have fewer problems. And less woman would be so extremely frustrated. “De bøtela. Litt ilt og å fomling, men vakker god.” He looked blankly at her. Right. Language. Well, there was one language all humans understood. Anya took his hand and put it over her mound. He gawped at her, which made his attractiveness take a nosedive. He looked decidedly stupid like that. With fraying patience, she covered Xander’s hand in hers and guided his fingers until they were gently rubbing her. It was like a light clicked on upstairs. With an exuberant smile, Xander began following Anyanka’s lead. There was so going to be more sex for him tonight! *** They lay next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Neither knew exactly what to say. “I…I don’t—“ “It’s OK,” Buffy said quickly. “But—“ “No, really. It’s OK. It’s like…supposed to be that way or something. I mean, I should be totally flattered that I got you that turned on, and—“ She suddenly found herself pinned beneath a rock hard body, stormy blue eyes pinning her to the bed. She watched with fascination as gold seemed to flow fluidly through them. “It’s not alright. I may be new to this act of love, but I do know it was quite uncouth of me to neglect your needs. So I propose that we rectify that situation immediately and without further ado!” “Yeah?” Buffy breathed, her heart rate increasing, and her eyes focused on William’s full red lips. “Yeah,” he said confidently, before capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Buffy felt the fire that had been kindling in her stomach return with full force. She was amazed to feel William’s erection pressed against her stomach; she’d known about the whole lack of control one minute thing from her friends who’d done it before, but she had never heard about a turn around time like this. Maybe it had something to do with the kind of hot vampire-ness? All thought was wiped from Buffy’s mind when William’s lips left hers to tease the skin against her throat. She shivered, a wave of moisture flooding her when he growled softly against her throat. She looked down to see William in full vampire face, growling at the side of her neck. “Wh-what?” she managed to force out. It was really hard to think when he was so close, and she could feel his hard cock pressed against her. His tongue licked the side of her throat, and he growled again. “They’re wrong,” he growled around his fangs. “These scars. They smell wrong. Buffy didn’t even bother to ask what scars he was talking about; all she knew was that she wanted him. Badly. And he had stopped all the delicious sex-vibes. She pulled him up to her, looking at him dead in the eye. “Then make it right.” She saw the instant William the man retreated and the vampire-thing came forward; but she didn’t feel scared. The look in his eye was one of lust and need, and she felt quite proud of herself for evoking such a response in him. She gasped when he thrust into her, fully seated. There was no pain, just the delicious sensation of being amazingly filled. The Demon growled his pleasure as her heat seared him, his gold eyes soaking in her expression of intense pleasure. This woman—mate, his demon screamed—was his. She was special, so very special. He needed to take care of her, to protect her, to love her, and to claim her. The last vestiges of William faded into the background as the demon took full control. He started thrusting into her, careful not to hurt the girl; that wouldn’t do at all. He felt her responding, smelled her increased arousal, her heart rate increasing, and her heat…God, her heat! She was getting harder, and it seared him. He knew that there was nothing else in this world that could come close to the feeling of being inside her, and he didn’t want to find anything else. This was it for him. This…this was home. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning when his cock stroked some secret place inside of her. He was building a delicious rhythm in her, one her body responded to with scary abandon. She felt herself spiraling out of control, and started panicking. This was new, something she’d never felt before, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Buffy bit back a scream when William flicked her clit, her hips bucking. God, what was he doing to her? “Let go, luv,” a hoarse voice encouraged her. The demon sat back to let this part of him take over; it seemed to know how to handle the situation. Buffy opened lust-glazed eyes to look at the intensely blue eyes that she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life. The intense emotion she saw emblazoned there made her shudder. William smiled, reading the emotions flowing through her eyes and knowing his showed the same. “Trust me…let go.” With a nod, Buffy closed her eyes did just that, giving into the wave of sensation that surrounded her, allowing herself to be washed away. Buffy spiraled violently into her first orgasm. As soon as he felt her walls begin to flutter around his cock, the demon struck. With one bite, he obliterated the marks of those who had been before, placing his own on Buffy’s throat. His eyes rolled back into his head when her blood hit his tongue. It was ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, all the best parts of life in one liquid bundle. That intense feeling of home echoed in him again, and he heard himself mumbling words incoherently around the bite. His orgasm took him unawares, and he shuddered from its impact. It went on and on, wracking his body with mind-numbing pleasure. When he was spent, he collapsed over the panting girl, trying to catch his breath. “Wow,” Buffy murmured in awe, her arms and legs tingling pleasantly. “Ugh,” was all William managed. *** Dawn stared at the bottle. To break, or not to break, that was the question. She sighed, and put on her thinking cap. What did her teachers call it? Deductive reasoning? Or what it inductive? Whatever, that was so beside the point, and her mom owed her a couple of bad math grades for what she’d seen. So, getting down to business… Based on past experiences, breaking the bottle would do one of two things: either it would release the spell and everything would go back to normal, or it would NOT release the spell and everyone would stay teenagers. Normally, Giles would be the person to call about such matters, but he was currently…busy. With her mom. A thought Dawn never wanted to have again. Option two, Buffy and Spike, were busy being…well, a nicer, more orgasmic version of Buffy and Spike. Xander was never any help, Willow and Tara were standing at opposite sides of the room unable to stop giving each other moon-eyes, and Anya…well, Anya didn’t speak any coherent, understandable language at the moment. And she was busy with Xander. With a sigh, Dawn realized that her only option was to break the bottle, and hope the Powers *really* liked her sister. *** She’d just had sex. Her! Buffy Summers, had just had sex with someone she’d known for a couple of hours…and she was doing it again. “Don’t stop touching me. Never stop touching me,” she begged him. Buffy moaned and arched off the bed when William flicked her clit and bit sharply on her nipple. Her body was on fire, burning from his touch—and fire she somehow knew would only be quenched by one person. Everything flew out of her head, the confusion of the night, her instant attraction to this man who was, apparently, a vampire, when he once again slid into her. She wasn’t wigged about any of it, which wigged her out for a moment…until William kissed her again. Her body clenched in reaction. “Buffy!” William’s eyes rolled back into his head. Her muscles were squeezing him, and he felt all sense of his surroundings, of his very ability to think being squeezed from him at the same time. She giggled at the look on his face, and concentrated on manipulating the muscles inside of her. “GAH!” “How does that feel?” she asked curiously, repeating her action as William’s face once again scrunched up. William shook his head. There was no way she expected him to be able to TALK right now! She was…every where. Surrounding him, bathing him in her light, drowning him. “How does it feel?” she asked again, more insistently, stopping her movements to make a point. William just shook his head and whimpered, trying to bring the friction back. But his Buffy was a demanding woman, he was finding, and she wanted an answer. She locked her ankles around his back, stopping him from any other movement. “Like…like heaven, but better. Like the most perfect moment in time, frozen and concentrated in a single space. Like the best parts of the world rolled into one and packaged in the most beautiful body God has ever seen fit to create. Like an immortal goddess, filled with light and laughter and love, come to grace one unworthy mortal’s worthless life with something more amazing and perfect than he could ever have dreamed of,” William gasped, the words bubbling from his lips like a stream. “Love me,” Buffy whispered, her eyes filled with wonder and awe. *** Ripper lay on his back, hair mussed sexily, dead starkers on the bed he and Joyce had haphazardly tumbled into…after christening the floor. A laugh rumbled through him as a slender foot snuck it way up his chest. He cracked one eye open to eye the beautiful woman propped at the foot of the bed. How had she gotten down there again? Oh. OH. Memories came rushing back, and he smiled wickedly at Joyce. They were so going to have to do that again! Joyce arched one trimmed eye brow at him. “I’m beginning to think you’re a machine with all the…recovering you’re doing,” she said. Ripper grabbed her foot and started massaging it, placing a small kiss against her arch. “I’m far more fun than any machine,” he blithely told her, not bothering to hold back his wide grin. “I dunno,” Joyce said airily, “I’ve had some *FUN* with a few machines in my day.” The wicked glint in her eyes had the blood rushing away from his brain and down to his cock in seconds. He felt himself starting to swell, and wondered at this minx before him. While he wasn’t exactly lacking in the stamina department, he’d never felt like this. The things this woman did to him. “I’ll show you fun!” he snarled, reaching to drag her to him. With a grace that Ripper had appreciated close up, Joyce flipped out of the bed and out of his reach. She walked away from him, bare ass shaking enticingly. “Just where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice cool with an undercurrent of darkness. Joyce just tossed him a sexy, rebellious smirk. “The shower. To have some fun.” Ripper beat her to the door. *** “Well, here goes nothing,” Dawn said with a sigh. She gripped the bottle in her hands and drew it over her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Sorry mom.” Dawn brought the bottle down on the coffee table and heard it smash into a thousand little pieces and… …nothing happened. Dawn cracked one eyes open. Tara and Willow were still making moon eyes at each other, but they’d covered about half of the ground that had once been separating them. Shit. It hadn’t worked, and she was out of options. Dawn glared balefully at the shards of the bottle. Stupid bottle that…was..glowing. Uh oh. Dawn was thrown against the couch as a blast of pure white light ripped through the house.

Chapter #4 - Part IV

Xander sat up abruptly, gasping for breath. It felt like someone had thrown several buckets of ice water over him all at one time. “What the hell was that?” he gasped. Anya rolled onto her back, the sheets of the bed riding low on her hips, and stretched languidly. “Molotovicallphallangina Aphrodisiac spell,” she mumbled sleepily. She could feel the after-effects of an extremely pleasing set of orgasms deep in her muscles. There was a reason those things were so popular. “Oh.” Xander looked around, trying to get his bearings. There’d been the whole Scooby slumber party that had been going great until Spike had crashed. Spike! Xander felt the familiar anger bubbling up in him. Spike had done this! Spike had ruined their night of nonhellmouthy fun, and put them all under this this this lust spell! Spike was trying to do something…like use the lust spell to get into Buffy’s pants! Well no Siree Bob, not on Xander Harris’s watch! Xnder swung his legs out of bed, wincing when his feet hit the floor. His bed was a bit taller than this. Xander took stock of his surroundings, a confused frown on his face. “Anya? Are we in Buffy’s room?” *** “This…this is quite unseemly. I-I-I do not know what to say,” Giles fumbled, cleaning his glasses against his rather wrinkled shirt. Well, his undershirt. He had no idea where his collared shirt was. Or his jacket, for that matter. And Joyce was just standing there, looking at him with inscrutable eyes. “Twice.” “I…beg your pardon?” Giles asked. His brow furrowed in that look that meant he was trying to work through a very complicated problem but running into a dead end. “Twice. Well…actually, more than twice. WAY more than twice,” Joyce babbled, sounding (disturbingly) like Buffy for a moment. “It’s just…what are the chances of…THAT, THIS…happening twice?” Giles stared at Joyce, his eyes wide and slightly scared. “I don’t understand—“ “Don’t give me that, Rupert Giles!” Joyce said in her best mom voice. She fixed Buffy’s watcher with a disapproving gaze that had him shifting uncomfortably and avoiding her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.” “Yes, well…” Giles trailed off. “I would hardly hold anyone accountable for their actions under a spell. The subversion of free will is paramount, a-a-and—“ “When you’re quite done talking out of your ass,” Joyce interrupted firmly, looking every inch as much a Slayer as her daughter, “you know where to find me.” With a final appraising look—that Giles was sure he’d been found wanting—she wrenched the door open and went to find out what mayhem the children had gotten themselves into THIS time. She barely even paused when Xander and Anya shuffled out of Buffy’s room, looking sheepish. *** He was wrapped up in Buffy, filled with her scent, her warmth, her beauty. She was perfection; she brought peace and purity to a tumultuous world. Her whispered words echoed in his mind. Love me. And he would. For the rest of his life, he would. He had no doubt of that. She gasped and arched beneath him, her muscles clenching around his member, drawing him further into the inviting heat between her legs. He felt something cold wash over him, but Buffy’s heat quickly drove it away. “Oh, Buffy,” he whispered reverently. He felt the fluttering that signaled her release, heard her mewling wordless plea for release. Without thinking, he vamped and struck, biting the side of her neck and drawing blood to the surface. “Spike!” she screeched as the world fell down around her, shattering into a million delicious pieces. Her muscles clamped around him. He let himself go, tumbling after her into the pleasant abyss. Gods, what this woman could do to him! Spike collapsed on her panting for breath he didn’t need, trying to fight his way back to consciousness through the sexual haze around him while prolonging the feeling for as long as possible. It was an odd conundrum, one the sex-haze was winning. But, sacrifices must be made. Buffy sighed in contentment, feeling the weight of the man draped over her. This…this was heaven. Who knew Spike would be this good? Spike. Spike? SPIKE! The spell-induced memories hit her with a brutal, crushing force. Her brain was screaming at her, and she tried desperately to get away from it. No no no no no no no no NO! This was not happening! This…this couldn’t…it was so unfair! Buffy winced when she fell off the bed and onto the floor with a thump and scrambled backwards, only stopping when she ran into the wall. Not again. She curled into herself, her arms banding around her legs, trying to make herself as small as possible. Anger, despair, loathing, and an intense sadness washed through her. Why did this keep happening? To her? It was some cruel cosmic joke, she was sure. Her emotions in turmoil, Buffy did the only easy thing left. She dropped her head and cried. *** He was truly and completely lost in her. His body was slack with release, and he could taste the salt of her sweat against her flawless skin. He never wanted to move ever again. Buffy. His Buffy. And suddenly, he was shoved aside and she was frantically trying to get as far away from him as possible. What the hell? Spike shook off the last of his haze and watched Buffy scramble across the floor, her face slack and eyes wild. What—reality came crashing back with force. Bugger. It had to be another spell. There was no way Buffy would have slept with him if she’d been of sane mind. The tingling in his mouth, the delicious taste of her that still lingered on his tongue sent him reeling. FUCK. The memory slammed into him, harsh and unforgiving. He’d claim her. His eyes were glued to the distraught girl, so small on the floor, completely unaware of the magnitude of what had happened. He could feel her anguish, her disgust and loathing through the bond. It stung, and Spike quickly blocked it out before it overwhelmed him. How could he have been so royally stupid? And what the hell had possessed him to do such the thing? Spike made no allowances for the spell, no excuses. He’d done something unthinkable, and without Buffy’s consent. He’d claimed her. He watched her for a moment, sobbing on the floor, his heart breaking. Every wall he’d ever built, every wall that had been forced around his heart came crashing down around him. It hurt. It hurt so bloody much it felt like his chest was going to explode. Keeping one eye on Buffy, Spike dressed silently, waiting for some sort of sign that his ma—Buffy wanted him there. Closing his eyes, he opened their link just a little, but it was enough to know that he wasn’t needed or wanted here. So with one last, lingering look, he slipped out the door and out of the house with none the wiser. He had a date with a man named Jack. *** Dawn came to with a groan. Again, there were people yelling and screaming around her, which really wasn’t pleasant when you had a migraine. She groaned loudly, waiting for someone to notice her. She cracked an eye open, but no one was paying her any attention. So she moaned. Again, nothing. She sighed in irritation. Xander was blushing a deep red and standing as far away from Anay as he could without Anya getting mad that he was too far away. Willow was babbling at Tara with her Apology Face, and Joyce was alternatively raging at Giles, who looked flabbergasted, and Xander, who was turning purple he was blushing so much. Anya was being…Anya. It was so time for the big guns. “Mommy?” Dawn whimpered, pitching her voice at the perfect octave for maximum effect. And the effect was immediate. Everyone stopped talking and all eyes were riveted to a whimpering Dawn. “Oh, my poor baby!” Joyce cried, flying over to the couch. Dawn whimpered once for good measure, and then again for real when her mother jarred her aching head. Not all of it was acting. “What happened?” “She did the spell without the Molotovicallphallangina Protection Pendant,” Anya said helpfully. “I did what?” Dawn asked skeptically. “The SPELL,” Anya said slowly. “You-did-the-spell—“ “Yes, we got that part, Anya, thank you,” Giles said waspishly, cleaning his glasses off. “What KIND of spell were we under?” “Oh, it’s a simple, harmless Molotovicallphallangina Aphrodisiac spell,” Anya said indifferently. She glanced around noticed all of the blank looks she was getting. While that was Xander’s usual facial expression, it was not for the others. “It a spell commonly used by the Molotovicallacopis Demon to put the spark back into relationships. It reverts you back to your sexual prime, which for them is about thirty-five years old. Also makes you really horny and gives the men much more stamina than average, guaranteeing orgasms for their female partners. The female of the species is sexually ravenous when she goes into heat, so it usually takes at least two males to—“ “Thank you, Anya,” Giles said wearily. “You’re most welcome!” she said happily. She wondering if she should mention it was also a fertility spell. But no, Giles had stopped her, so he obviously knew the rest. Or wasn’t interested. Being human was so difficult sometimes. “Why wasn’t I affected?” Dawn asked with a frown. Typical, she was always left out. “The spell either thought you weren’t sexually mature or you haven’t passed your prime yet. Or you could have been affected a little, but there was no suitable mate around so you just sort of were in limbo. The Molotovicallacopi are great spell weavers, they have all sorts of nifty safeties built in. But it’s a good thing you weren’t affected, they can take a very long time to wear off.” “What do you mean there was no suitable mate?” a new voice asked. Buffy stood behind them, her body language closed and her eyes puffy. It was obvious she’d been crying, and her hair was mussed. Anya knew exactly what that meant, and in an uncharacteristic flash of intuition, answered the question Buffy was really asking. “They’re not an extremely monogamous species. They tend to cast these spells for harvest and other fertility rites. Part of the spell encourages you to find the most…compatible person for you. But it doesn’t change anything. What’s there is there.” Joyce chanced a glance over at Giles, who was looking a little ashen. She could tell that Anya’s words had struck him. A small sniffling sound came from her eldest daughter, and Joyce decided that enough was enough; they could deal with all of the consequences of this latest debacle tomorrow. “Alright, everyone. It’s—“ “Anya…did you say fertility rite?” Xander asked in a small voice, his eyes wide. “Yep! Part of the spell is to stimulate the receptiveness of both parties.” “Oh. OK.” And with a smile, Xander fainted dead away. *** Joyce watched as Giles lugged Xander down the stairs and drive away with Anya. She was going to have to do something about that man. Tomorrow. Tonight, she had to have a chat with her eldest daughter. She found Buffy sitting on the couch, staring into space, and clutching her shirt tight around her throat. She looked sad and pensive, a look that did not suit the Slayer well. “Help me clean up?” she asked, smiling softly at her first born. Wide, confused eyes stared blankly at her. Oh yeah, this was a job for mom. “Mommy…” Joyce wrapped her arms around her sobbing child, giving the comfort that only a mother was capable of. “Oh, honey. Come on, you can tell me all about it over some chocolate, OK?” Buffy nodded silently, trying to reign in her raging emotions. Mom was here, she’d make it all better. Joyce let Buffy clam down as she heated some milk and mixed up some good old fashion hot chocolate. “He left,” Buffy whispered, almost too low for Joyce to hear. But she winced, knowing exactly who Buffy had to be talking about, and what must have happened. Though she wasn’t exactly in a position to throw stones. “He was just…gone. And I was so c-confused and…it’s not fair!” Joyce placed the hot chocolates down on the table, and covered Buffy’s hands with her own. The dam seemed to break, Buffy’s walls collapsing as she sobbed out the whole story. The spell, the words, the poetry, the sex, the biting—which gave Joyce a moment for pause, but she knew without a doubt that her little girl was safe with Spike, regardless of the circumstances—and the moments after where Spike had disappeared. “And it’s not fair!” she concluded, and Joyce resisted the urge to slap her thick-headed daughter upside the head. Then again, she’d have to do the same to Spike because for a relatively bright man, he had certainly screwed this up royally. But Joyce sighed and decided that the old fashioned route was a better idea. “Buffy, maybe the spells are trying to tell you something,” Joyce ventured, taking a sip of her no luke-warm chocolate. “W-what?” Buffy asked, her head popping up off the table. “Well, like you said…you feel happy and alive and loved when you’re under the spells. But only the ones that let you get close to Spike. You’ve been under plenty of other ones. You don’t feel happy because of the spells…you feel happy because of Spike.” Joyce watched patiently as her daughter began processing that information. First was the flat out denial. So like her father. Then came the no way part, followed by the could it be, then the no vampires are evil line of thinking that she was going to smack Giles for later, and then all of Buffy’s carefully constructed notions about the world collapsed in on themselves, leaving just a young girl head over heels in love for the wrong boy. But she wasn’t crying anymore. “Spike’s a good man, honey. Why don’t you think about it for a little while?” “Mom!” a voice screeched from upstairs, breaking their mother-daughter moment. Buffy smiled wanly, but she seemed better off than before. “Duty calls,” Joyce said with a smile. “What happened to my room?!” Joyce’s smile abruptly left her face, a look of mortified horror crossing her features. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. “Mom?” Buffy asked, her nosed scrunched up. She was staring intently at something. “Is that a hickey?” “AAAAHHHHHHHHHH! There’s underwear on my lamp!”

Chapter #5 - Part V

Buffy waited four days. Four excruciating, agonizing, unbearable days waiting for Spike to show himself. She spent the first day pondering over her mother’s words. They made sense in a way that undermined all of her teachings, everything Giles had drilled into her head. But then again, it was all Council teaching, and she already knew they were a bunch of stuffy-headed British losers who didn’t know the first thing about actual slaying. She also studiously ignored the strange ache that knotted in her stomach. She spent the second day obsessing over why Spike had left. Was it because he was disgusted with what they’d done, him sleeping with a slayer? Or was she bad? As bad as Angelus had claimed? Maybe she smelled. She’d go to the store tonight and buy some extra-strength body wash. Or…did Spike simply not care about her? That was a possibility. She was a quick fuck and Spike was ready to move on to bigger boobs and more experienced women. So she’d run crying to her mother, seeking her comfort and wisdom. All of her mother’s advice boiled down to one thing: talk to him. Not a Buffy Strong Point. That was just going to mess everything up. She’d say something stupid, or Spike would open his mouth, and they’d end up beating the crap out of each other. Or at least, she’d end up beating the crap out of Spike, who would totally deserve it. So Buffy brooded and drank a bottle of Pepto Bismol in an effort to calm the painful churning in her stomach that was getting worse with every passing hour. She spent the third day freaking out. The other two days had allowed her to pointedly casually ignore the fact that Spike had bitten her. But it was hard to live in Egypt when you had Xander around to point out you were, in fact, living on the literal mouth of hell. “Buffy! You…Giles! Buffy’s a vampire!” The Slayer glared at her thick friend, ready to take Mr. Pointy and shove the blunt end up Xander’s ass. “I am not a vampire,” she muttered through clenched teeth, with an eye roll for good measure. What respectable vampire rolled their eyes instead of ripping out someone’s throat? But Xander just backed away from her, his fingers held up in a protective cross. “Stay away from me you non-Buffy-like thing! GILES!” Before she could retort, Giles rushed into the room with a large pot of holy water and doused Buffy with it. She wondered randomly where it came from, because she’d never seen it before. “Giles! Vamp!Buffy’s immune to holy water! Run for your life!” Honestly, how was she friends with this bloomin’ idiot? Her shoulders slumped at the Spikeism. A wave of intense physical pain washed over her, and she clutched the table, waiting for it to pass. It never did though. These waves were getting worse, and they didn’t go away. They just faded into a mostly bearable throbbing pain. What was wrong with her? Had something gone wrong with the spell? Typical. “Buffy, is there something you’d like to tell us?” Giles asked, a severe expression on his face. Something in Buffy rebelled strongly at that look, protested the part of Giles that was making her feel like a scolded little girl. “Nope!” she exclaimed with valley girl cheer. “I’m just peachy with an extra side of keen!” “Buffy.” Giles had that frowning I’m-disappointed-with-you look on his face. “It’s not up for discussion, and it doesn’t concern you. Either of you,” she said firmly, glaring at Xander, who looked ready to protest. But Giles simply sighed and retrieved an old, leather-bound book from the shelf behind him. She accepted the book with a relieved sigh, happy that she’d dodged the bullet…this time. She opened the book when she got home. That’s where she first read about claims. That’s when she’d started really freaking out. Spike had better show up, because he had some explaining to do. So she waited. She waited for him in the Magic Box, looked for him lurking outside of her room, felt for him on patrol, but he wasn’t there. She stared mournfully out of the window into the darkness. Four days. Her stomach rebelled at that thought, as if telling her four days was enough and if she waited five she’d be very, very sorry. Determined, Buffy grabbed her jacket and Mr. Pointy and flew down the steps. “I’m going patrolling, mom! Be home late.” Joyce just smiled at her eldest daughter, shaking her head. Young love. They had the time to be stubborn, shirty idiots. The same could not be said of certain other more…distinguished adults. Joyce fought the scowl off of her face. Those thoughts could wait for later. *** Buffy stared at the crypt door, wondering what to do. Normally she would just barge in, but that seemed kind of…rude. Especially now that they’d done…you know. So she tentatively knocked on the door. Nothing. Buffy frowned and knocked again, louder this time. Still no response. She cautiously opened the door and stuck her head in, looking around the dimly lit interior. “Spike?” She slipped in and felt for her vampire. She felt a tug farther in the room, right where that knot of pain had been building over the past few days. Was it just her, or did it seem just a little better? Buffy almost fell through the trap door. She let her feelers extend until she was sure that Spike had to be down there. “If I get slimed by some gross demon you’re so paying for my dry cleaning!” Buffy muttered, making her way down to the ladder. The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold. Spike was lying in the middle of a surprisingly luxurious bed, completely naked and covered in blood. She rushed over, taking in the deep gashes that crisscrossed Spike’s back. The jagged wounds were red and angry, and crusted patches of dark blood contrasted sharply against his pale skin. “Oh Spike, what happened?” she whispered. He didn’t move, and for the first time, Buffy realized he wasn’t breathing. That was one thing about Spike that had always struck her, his breathing. He was so...human sometimes. It was easy to forget…but that had to wait. Spike needed patching up. Buffy lit the candles that littered Spike’s underground lair. She searched around and came up with a box full of bandages and found what passed as a shower. With gentle care, she began cleaning the vicious claw marks that littered Spike’s mangled back. She didn’t even want to think about the rest of his body. Spike didn’t move the entire time, not even to groan in pain when she accidentally reopened one of his wounds. Almost two hours later, Buffy finished stitching the worst of Spike’s injuries together. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically. She bandaged Spike as best she could and tried unsuccessfully to get him to drink some blood. With a small sigh, Buffy laid down next to her vampire, studying him. She didn’t feel herself fall asleep. *** Spike woke up slowly. His body was on fire. Right, note to self, don’t tangle with a Fyarl demon in heat. Bed idea, no matter how much you’re lookin’ for a good rough and tumble. A small sound beside him caught his attention and Spike froze at the sight that greeted him. Buffy was curled up on his bed, sound asleep. He felt his heart give a little. Why was she here? He shifted over, and felt the bandaged and stitches in his back. She’d patched him up. Again, why? After what he’d done… “Hi.” Spike blinked, coming back to the here and now. Sleepy emerald eyes searched his face. “How are you feeling?” “Amazing,” he said hoarsely. His voice was gravelly and laced with pain. Concern flitted across her face. “You need blood. I’ll go get you blood. You just…don’t move.” And she was gone in a flash, her perfect ass shimmying up the ladder. Spike didn’t even try to think while she was gone. He’d spent two days wallowing in his guilt, a large bottle of Jack Daniels his only company. By the third night, he wanted to beat the shit out of some unsuspecting demon. He’d won, but at the cost of his back. He’d found that intense pain accomplished the same thing as lots of alcohol, and was cheaper to boot. “What happened to you?” Spike’s eyes popped open. He hadn’t heard Buffy come back down, but the hot mug of blood she was holding smelled delicious. “Got in a fight. Right nasty bugger. Been laying here for a couple ‘o days.” Spike drained the mug, avoiding Buffy’s unsettling gaze. He started when another mug materialized under his nose. “That why you haven’t been around?” The question was casual, almost absent minded, but Spike knew better. Buffy Summers did NOT care if he was around. “Somethin’ like that.” A wave of emotion battered against his shields, but he held firm. He would be strong. “Oh.” That one word pierced him straight through the heart. She sounded desolate. He looked up at her through his lashes and felt panic race through him. Her eyes were wet and heavy. Spike watched with a sense of resignation as one fat tear escaped and slid down Buffy’s cheek. He was such a sucker for tears. “Pet…” he ventured. “No.” The word was choked. “No.” Firmer this time. “I’m fine.” That wide smile that fooled the peons Buffy called friends stretched across her face. Spike idly thought Buffy’s face might just crack in two if she kept it up for long. “Luv—“ “I’m just gonna go now, got things to do. Homework or…something. Yeah. I’ll see you. Check in on you after—” “Slayer.” He growled it, a vampire warning his mate, but he’d tamped down the effects of the claim. He swore to himself as Buffy began to climb haltingly up the ladder. “Buffy!” That froze her. The use of her real name made her stop. Spike didn’t use her name. Unbidden, memories of the last time he’d said her name flashed across her vision in Technicolor. With a sigh, she turned and looked at the injured vampire on the bed. “I…’ Spike trailed off, unable to think of anything to say. And then a light clicked on. He didn’t have to say anything. Closing his eyes, Spike opened up the connection between them, sending Buffy…everything. He couldn’t pick and choose what she saw; she got it all, everything that he was, everything that he had been…and everything that he could be. It was scary and thrilling and the only chance they had. Because when they tried to talk, they just fucked everything right the hell up. Buffy was enthralled. She could feel Spike, in her, around her, with her. He was in her head, and she was in his. He showed her…everything. She watched his darkest secrets play out in front of her, snippets of his human life that seemed so contradictory to his character but really fit when you looked past the demon and knew the man. She saw truths about Angel, learned about being a vampire, and through it all felt Spike’s immense, awe inspiring, unconditional love for her. It brought her to tears. She saw how awful he felt when he realized he’d claimed her under the spell, how he’d tried to make sure it didn’t affect her. He’d taken the brunt of the pain at being separated, some sort of atonement for an imagined sin. She felt the flow start to ebb, felt Spike pull back into himself. That would not do at all. They had a few more things to hash out, and she wasn't going to mess this up by trying to use words. Words bad. With less finesse than Spike, but with the enthusiasm that had kept her alive all these years as a slayer, Buffy opened herself to her mate. She let him feel her confusion at being attracted to yet another vampire, one without a soul, who was so different from her first love, but in all the right ways. He saw how scared she was of loosing the people she loved; her mother, her sister, her friends. How scared she was that there was something intrinsically wrong with her, because all the men in her life left her. How much her friends meant to her. He felt her hopes, her dreams, and saw…her. The woman, the slayer, the person. And he fell in love all over again. The sharing lasted an eternity, and was over far too soon. They stood, looking bashfully at each other. They felt…fresh. Cleansed. New. They’d absolved each other of the sins of their past, and come through as something new and undefined. Buffy smiled, a soft, shy thing that was so at odds with her kick-ass slayer persona that Spike had to grin in response. He gingerly sat up, taking care not to stretch his stitches, and opened his arms. Buffy’s warmth radiated through him, and he inhaled her particular Buffy smell. He grinned when he felt the blood that wasn’t busy healing his back rush southward. “Spike!” Buffy’s tone was shocked and admonishing, but her eyes twinkled with amusement and the hint of arousal. “What? ‘snot my fault!” he protested, pouting at her. He held back his smirk as Buffy’s attention was directed at the protruding lip. He almost had her. He slid his bottom lip out just a little further. No way she could resist that. Buffy tried to resist his charms. Tried to ignore the building arousal, the mocking call of that plump lip. But in the end, she succumbed to Spike’s expert seduction. She kissed him, sucking in Spike’s lower lip. That lip was hers, and she planned to put a permanent claim on it. Spike moaned, the feel of Buffy’s sharp little teeth arousing him further. He banded an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. God, this was heaven. He lost himself in her kiss, in her warmth, enjoying her as much as he could. His back had other ideas, though, and it pulled in protest, causing him to gasp. Buffy pulled away, taking her delicious mouth away from his lips. “Are you OK? Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” “Yer not kissin’ me!” Spike growled, reaching for her despite the pain it caused. Buffy avoided his questing grasp, darting behind him to take a look at his mangled back. “Don’t you dare open these stitches!” she commanded, running her hands lightly across the undamaged skin. Spike shivered. He’d never get used to Buffy touching him. Using all of his resources and accepting the pain the move would cause, Spike twisted and pinned a startled slayer under him, his cock rubbing against the coarse material of her jeans. “Think I need you to kiss me and make it better,” he murmured, smiling when her pupils dilated. They made love slowly, carefully, mindful of Spike’s injuries but also aware that this was the first time they’d made love. Their first time. Spike worshiped Buffy’s body, kissing his way to her breast, learning what made her gasp and cry out. He learned the feel of her, the way her curves fit his body. When he finally entered her, her silken fold enveloping him, he almost died. “Buffy!” He held himself, trembling, in her depths. She seared him, down to his very soul. He shook his head, trying to keep his mind from wandering off, lost in the sensation that was Buffy Summers…his mate. His eyes snapped to hers, searching for an answer he just couldn’t believe was yes. Buffy smiled and slowly rotated her hips, savoring the look of intense pleasure Spike couldn’t hold back. After everything they’d seen of one another, he still had doubts. It would be fun to lay those to rest. But for now, she wanted him, and she wanted him now. She sat up a little and captured his lips in a kiss. She locked her legs around his firm, toned ass, ever mindful of his wounds, and encouraged his movements, seeking friction and release. They moved together, hips meeting, skin slapping together. Their grunts and moans came together, sounds of intense pleasure. Spike felt his orgasm building, a rising wave as his body tensed. Buffy mewled, caught at the precipice, waiting for that final release. She turned her head to one side, baring her marks to her mate. “Spike…please.” It was all the invitation he needed. With controlled intensity, Spike struck, opening the marks and letting her powerful blood wash over his tongue. “Mine!” Buffy arched up, her body taut and strained, pleasure coursing through her. She felt everything, every place her body connected with her mate’s. She felt the pleasurable pull of her blood, and the feel of Spike’s rigid cock in her slick channel. Without thinking about it, she reached for him, and gasped as his pleasure slammed into her. They were caught in a loop of pleasure as they opened their connection and let the other feel what was happening. It swirled around them, in them, through them, bouncing back and forth form one to the other and growing with every exchange. They flew up towards the peak, creasting it over and over again, together, caught up in one another. “Yours. Yours, only yours!” Buffy sobbed, the intensity of the moment flowing through her. She felt something change, a subtle thing, whatever it was…but it was there. Spike felt it too, after he regained his ability to think and gently closed his bite marks, a purr rising unbidden in his chest. *** Spike’s back was healing nicely by the time the sun set, thanks to the power of Buffy’s blood. Enough that he was able to walk without help. Giggling and shooting little shmoopy glances at one another, the new couple walked hand in hand towards Buffy’s house. “Mom?” Buffy called into her silent house. “Mo-om.” “She’s upstairs,” Dawn said, walking out of the kitchen with a plate full of cookies and a bowl of popcorn. “So…how was the boinkinig?” Dawn grinned. Spike and Buffy should imitated fish more often, it was funny. Humming Let’s Get It On not exactly under her breath, Dawn headed to the living room to watch the fireworks. Sure enough, as soon as she sat down, the doorbell ring and the Scooby Gang spilled into the house. Joyce made her way down the stairs at the noise, greeting everyone but Giles warmly. Her attitude towards the older Brit could be described as frigidly arctic. If you were into understatement and didn’t have an entire page to fully describe just how much disdain Joyce was able to fit into a three second interaction. “I must use the bathroom, so don’t start without me! I don’t want to miss the show!” Strained eyes followed Anya out of the room. The oppressive silence was broken by Xander’s whimper. He was looking at Buffy and Spike, who had pulled Buffy onto his lap and was making sure they waited for Anya by keeping Buffy’s lips quite occupied. “Ba-ba-ba-ba,” Xander babbled, his eyes bugging. “Xander, do shut up,” Giles sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes. Joyce’s icy disdain let up half a notch. “Bu-bu-bu-bu!” Dawn dug into her popcorn. This was going to be awesome. Buffy looked up and fixed Xander with an icy glare that had nothing on Joyce’s, but Buffy was still young. It takes time to perfect that kind of disappointment and anger. “Spike and I are a couple. Actually we’re kind of like married, but that doesn’t matter. We’re together, I’m happy, and I don’t want to hear it.” With that, Buffy turned her attention back to her mate. Mate taste good. Xander just gaped at the duo, and Giles sighed resignedly. He’d been afraid of this, after he’d seen those non-fading marks on his slayer’s neck. “Xander!” a bubbling Anya burst into the room, holding something long and white. “I’m pregnant! Oh, Spike and Buffy are mates! Good for you, makes the orgasms much more powerful!” Xander looked from Buffy and Spike, to Anya and her little stick-friend, and back to Buffy and Spike, and then passed out. Buffy and Spike were happily oblivious to the fall out, totally absorbed in each other’s lips. There was screaming, yelling, crying, more passing out, and congratulations, not necessarily in any coherent order and sometimes happening all at once. But eventually, Xander was settled in the kitchen with a mug of tea and a babbling Anya, with a promise to Joyce to stay upright and conscious for at least the next hour. She excused herself, heading out of the kitchen to have a talk with her daughter and apparent son-in-law. “Joyce,” Giles said, wincing as that cold, cold gaze settled on him. He realized he was cleaning his glasses and hurriedly put them back on his head. Joyce raised one eye brow, and the temperature in the room plummeted. “Right. I…I’m a stupid sod.” “I know.” His head snapped up, and he was relieved to see her grinning, if at his own expense. But if the ice on the mirror was any indication, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “I find that…I enjoy your company and if you would be so inclined, I would not be adverse t-t-to pursuing some sort of…association.” “Rupert Giles,” Joyce murmured, stepping deliberately towards the flustered man, “are you trying to say you want to date me?” Giles flushed, and ducked his head. His fingers itched to snatch his glasses off his face. “Well…indeed.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his. They melted into one another, enjoying the contact. Joyce pulled back slightly. “I have to confess something,” she murmured. Giles kissed her again, his breath jagged and fast. “Confession is good for the soul.” She shivered; he sounded like Ripper there. Joyce lowered her lips to his ear. “I’m pregnant.”

Chapter #6 - Epilogue

“I will rip your still-beating heart out of your living chest! I will turn your penis into a cockroach and stomp on it! I’ll kill it! I swear! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Buffy gratefully slipped out of the room. “You fucking bastard! Get out of my life! I NEVER want to see you again!” Buffy sighed and tentatively stuck her head into the room next door. “How’s it going?” she said with false cheer and a huge fake smile on her face. “Oh, well, it’s a-ah-ha-ha!” Buffy watched in mute horror as her mother crushed Giles’s hand. “It’s FANTASTIC!” Joyce growled, her eyes narrowed on Giles’s pale, pain-filled face. Pain? Oh, she’d give him pain! Spike took a measured step back when Joyce growled; she was one scary human being. There had to be a touch of demon in her somewhere. He threw a desperate look at his mate, who gave him a sympathetic smile before slowly backing towards the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be documenting this glorious occurrence, WILLIAM?” Joyce growled again. Spike’s eyes widened and he shrank back into the wall. Next time Rupes magically knocked up the Slayer’s mum, he was not volunteering for picture duty. No matter WHAT Buffy did with those Slayer muscles of hers. “Great. Everything’s under control here; you just deliver my brother or sister safely, Mom. I’m going to go check on my godchild.” With that, the bravest Vampire Slayer in history fled her mother’s room, opting to deal with an ex-vengeance demon’s creative ways to make her husband pay. *** Buffy held the blue bundle with a look of awe on her face. He was so tiny! With tiny little tufts of hair, and tiny little eyelashes, and tiny little fingernails. He was perfect. “Hello, Jason. I’m your big sister Buffy! We are going to have so much fun! I’m going to teach you everything I know!” she said with a goofy grin. She pouted when the sleeping babe was plucked out of her arms, but her gaze softened when Spike expertly cradled the newborn in his strong arms, his blue eyes alight. “And I’m your Uncle Spike; don’t you worry, I’m not gonna leave you at the mercy of the Summer’s women. I’ll teach you to be a man!” “Hey!” Buffy said with a laugh, sticking her tongue out playfully. She grinned when Spike’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. “I’ll happily show you how much of a man I am,” he said, his voice low and gravely. It was his turn to grin when Buffy’s breath caught. “No traumatizing the new born!” a giggling voice whispered. Dawn came up and took her new brother from Spike’s arms, smiling. FINALLY she wasn’t the youngest! She glanced at her sister and pseudo older brother, happily hugging one another. It had been a little rocky at first, after the spell had been lifted. Buffy and Spike had hemmed and hawed a few times, beaten the crap out of each other a few times, and generally been idiots…but they’d worked through it after a hormonal Joyce had sat them down and explained exactly how they would be acting for the next six months of her pregnancy. “How’s my boy?” a raw, tired voice asked. Joyce looked haggard, but she had a happy glow to her. Dawn carried her brother to her mother’s bed, placing him gently in her arms. “Perfect,” she breathed, resting her head on her mom’s shoulder. “He has his father’s eyes,” Joyce noted, glancing at the exhausted man sitting next to her bed. She refused to feel bad about the bandage covering his right hand. She smiled indulgently as he blushed and started vigorously cleaning his glasses. “Hey-o!” a happy voice called out. Everyone exclaimed as a sweaty, beaming Anya was wheeled into the room, holding a white-wrapped bundle close to her chest. Everyone looked at the ex-demon expectantly, waiting for her announcement. “Well?” Dawn demanded impatiently, stomping her foot a little. Anya’s grin widened as she carefully unwrapped the pink little baby. “I would like to introduce you to Christopher Devon Aaron Emmanuel Harris-Jenkins. We put the hyphenated names in alphabetical order. I just wanted everyone to know so that no one doubts Xander’s manliness.” Anya was suddenly surrounded by cooing, adoring people. “Hey! Godmother coming through!” Buffy cried, reaching to pick up her godchild. “Hello, Christopher. I’m your Aunti Buffy! I’m going to take you on shopping sprees, and to the park, and...” “And I’m going to teach him how to be a man too, since Xander’s bound to do a piss-poor job,” Spike interjected with an eye roll. “Hey!” Xander said. But he was smiling, taking Spike’s ribbing in stride. Joyce had also forced them to call a cease fire, and so far, it was sticking. Dawn suspected Anya and Willow had joined forces against Xander, and Buffy and Tara had done a number on Spike. “H-h-he’s really cute, Anya,” Tara said with a smile, her arm resting loosely on Willow’s waist. The two had grown closer after the spell had ended, Willow’s guilt at her actions under the spell keeping Tara in cookies and cuddles for a month. Xander helped his fiancée into the bed next to Joyce, tucking the covers under her with a soft smile. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy on either of them. They’d both had to face some of their demons, but they’d come through it and the future looked bright. Xander had a good job at a construction company, and with Anya’s financial know-how, they’d just put a down payment on a house. “Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over,” a nurse said. “Oh, come on Leila! Ten more minutes,” Spike said with a grin. The nurse shook her head at the blonde man who’d been haunting the halls since the night before, waiting for his mother-in-law and friend to give birth. “Oh no, mister. You’re not sweet-talkin’ me. Everybody out but the fathers. These ladies need their rest.” With quick kisses for the beautiful newborn boys, and brief hugs for the new moms, everyone shuffled out of the room. *** Buffy and Spike dropped Willow, Tara, and Dawn off at Joyce’s house before heading over to their apartment. Buffy spent the ride in contemplative silence, staring out the window and into the darkness. When Joyce and Anya had both turned up pregnant, Buffy had gone through a stage believing that she might be too. But that hadn’t panned out. Not that that should have surprised her. Vampires couldn't have children. Neither did Slayers. They didn’t live long enough. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t want them, sometimes. But she had Spike. And that was enough for her. Spike hid the smile that wanted to break free on his face when he broke Buffy out of her trance. She gave him a small smile, and let him escort her up to their two bedroom apartment. His lips were captured as soon as the door closed, Buffy’s body pressed into his. He moaned, feeling himself react to her. She knew exactly how to touch him. With extreme effort, he pulled away. “Spike,” she whined. “Hold on, luv,” he murmured, pushing past her to retrieve a small package. He handed it to her with a grin. “What—“ “Just open it,” he said, rocking onto the balls of his feet. Buffy narrowed her eyes at his nervous habit before slowly opening the brown paper package. She picked up two vials of some sort of liquid. She turned them over, noting there were four more in the box. “OK. I give up.” She glanced into her mate’s eyes and gasped at what she saw. “I love you,” he said, the emotion behind his words bringing tears to Buffy’s eyes. “These…these are the mystic equivalent of fertility treatments. I know we haven’t discussed it, but if you want—“ He never got a chance to finish. Buffy threw herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face. “I love you.” A/N: So that's it. There may be a sequle later; I haven't decided. But thanks for the reviews and the support. If I do decide on a sequle, it will be after my fic TWINLETS, which can be found on my personal site (http://ebontier.tripod.com/) Thank you all for the great reviews! And the mods who found a few of my spelling errors ;) You guys and gals do a fantastic job on this archive.